Spoiler
I stood on the riverbank. My shoes were carelessly strewn on the grass. I’d wanted to feel the cool water between my toes.
I inhaled. It smelt of…nature; of the forest; of the delicate white flowers dotting the clearing next to the river I’d never found the name of. Amazingly, I also smelt my Grandma’s chocolate chip cookies, fresh out of the oven. But that was impossible. She’d been dead four years. I felt a pang in my chest. I miss you, Grandma…
We were moving. This town, the place I’d spent all my thirteen years. The place where I’d made my many friends, where I’d lived a life, where my grandmother died, where my dad left…
Actually, I could kind of see why my mom wanted to leave.
Still, I was leaving everything. Mom hadn’t even asked me. It was just the two of us now. I thought she’d at least let me have an opinion.
I remembered when she told me. It was over dinner. A week before our flight. I barely had time to “settle everythingâ€Â, as she put it. If settling everything meant trying to destroy all of Dad’s precious antique furniture he couldn’t take with him when he moved into his secretary’s apartment (Seriously. It couldn’t get more cliché.)
My watch beeped. Eight o’clock. A squirrel came up to me, cocked its little head and placed a nut next to me. I smiled and, after some thought, turned around to put on my shoes.
That night, I talked to my mom. I don’t know where I got the confidence. Could it have been the squirrel? She agreed to stay for another month, to let me really tie up all the loose strings.
She got lucky. She met a man. Someone who truly loved her for who she was. In three months they were married.
I visited that clearing everyday from then on. I ever did meet that little squirrel again, though. I don’t know why. It always had a special meaning to me, although all it did was give me a nut. Perhaps it reminded me that life wasn’t all that bad. There was some kindness in the world. And I never forgot it.
Funny you could learn all that from a squirrel.
I inhaled. It smelt of…nature; of the forest; of the delicate white flowers dotting the clearing next to the river I’d never found the name of. Amazingly, I also smelt my Grandma’s chocolate chip cookies, fresh out of the oven. But that was impossible. She’d been dead four years. I felt a pang in my chest. I miss you, Grandma…
We were moving. This town, the place I’d spent all my thirteen years. The place where I’d made my many friends, where I’d lived a life, where my grandmother died, where my dad left…
Actually, I could kind of see why my mom wanted to leave.
Still, I was leaving everything. Mom hadn’t even asked me. It was just the two of us now. I thought she’d at least let me have an opinion.
I remembered when she told me. It was over dinner. A week before our flight. I barely had time to “settle everythingâ€Â, as she put it. If settling everything meant trying to destroy all of Dad’s precious antique furniture he couldn’t take with him when he moved into his secretary’s apartment (Seriously. It couldn’t get more cliché.)
My watch beeped. Eight o’clock. A squirrel came up to me, cocked its little head and placed a nut next to me. I smiled and, after some thought, turned around to put on my shoes.
That night, I talked to my mom. I don’t know where I got the confidence. Could it have been the squirrel? She agreed to stay for another month, to let me really tie up all the loose strings.
She got lucky. She met a man. Someone who truly loved her for who she was. In three months they were married.
I visited that clearing everyday from then on. I ever did meet that little squirrel again, though. I don’t know why. It always had a special meaning to me, although all it did was give me a nut. Perhaps it reminded me that life wasn’t all that bad. There was some kindness in the world. And I never forgot it.
Funny you could learn all that from a squirrel.
. But how could she get confidence from a squirrel?
. Thanks. And i have no idea how she got confidence from the squirrel. It's supposed to be symbolic, I guess (ok, that's just an excuse).
. Still looking for a more descriptive, meaningful title other than 'The Squirrel'. 
